For Gryffindor
by KuroNeko
Summary: Neville's terrible in Potions. The other Gryffindors attempt to help.


**Title**: For Gryffindor

**Author**: KuroNeko

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling built the sandbox. I just play in it.

**A/N**: originally written for the Late Bloomer Ficathon in the LiveJournal Neville comm, nevillosity. How many times can I mention "Neville" in an intro?

_The use of ginger as a wizarding medicinal herb is believed to have started in southern China some two thousand years in the past. Ginger is a rarity among all the species found in wizard Herbology texts as Muggles also long ago discovered the healing properties of ginger. Often referred to (erringly) as a root, it is in actuality a rhizome. (cf. asparagus) Used in many parts of the world for stomach complaints - _

"Ow!" A sharp intake of breath accompanied the pain prickling away at his thumb. Neville stared with rounded, surprised eyes at the steady line of crimson. The blood channeled down the folds of his knuckle and finally mingled with the golden slices of ginger laid upon the chopping board beneath.

"Neville, what's happened?" Hermione hissed softly at him, her own ginger pieces evenly stacked one on top of the other like galleons being counted at Gringotts. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Obviously, she should have helped him out after finishing up her own potion preparation, but could she ever predict how much trouble Neville Longbottom could dig himself into by chopping up ginger? "You ought to pay better attention to what you're doing!"

"I _was_ paying attention," Neville replied softly. "Only I...I suppose it was to the wrong thing." He started to suckle on his thumb, the tip of his tongue tracing the thin wound warily. "It's not serious," he muttered, stomach tightening at his own ineptness. Why was he paying more attention to the random Herbology facts dancing around his head instead of Potions?

"You never say it's serious," Ron sighed, going back to his own work. His ginger slices didn't match Hermione's, but as he gained more practice at chopping, his pieces had become more and more uniform. At least, they weren't nearly as bad as Neville's. Neville's slices looked like they'd been broken free by the jaws of some sort of wild animal.

Harry dipped his gaze towards his cauldron, busying his hands by plopping in two round ginger slices. "Shush, Snape's coming."

Snape slid across the classroom in casual inspection of his students. "Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy, as usual. Miss Bulstrode, you as well. Mr. Zabini, sharpen your blade and you won't have to deal with uneven cuts. Mr. Goyle. Please do not use your knife to scrape the hair off Mr. Crabbe's arms. It's unsanitary. Adequate results, Miss Granger." He stared down at Hermione's cutting board. "I suppose it will have to do." Then his gaze settled on Neville's workspace, on the droplets of red standing out brilliantly against ginger yellow. "Mr. Longbottom," Snape drawled, lips pulling into a sneer at the ludicrous sight before him. A boy of sixteen sucking on his thumb. "You do have eyes in your head, do you not?"

Neville nodded, mouth still wrapped around the wound, his tongue still teasing at the slice in his skin.

"Then you should be able to tell where the ginger ends and your hand begins, correct? Ten points from Gryffindor for being an incorrigible dimwit," Snape said with a pinch of sardonic glee. He stepped away from the Gryffindor workspace and headed back to the front of the classroom.

"Why do you sit there and take it?" Ron whispered at Neville once Snape eased out of earshot.

Neville shrugged.

"You ought to stand up for yourself," Hermione said. "You managed to get your Potions O.W.L. Snape couldn't refuse you when faced with your marks."

"I know," Neville answered, finding it difficult to speak clearly with his thumb still stoppering up his mouth.

"But you still muck up every chance you get," Ron said.

Neville dropped his hand, pressing his knuckle against his robes to help stop the flow of blood. "I don't do it on purpose," he said defensively.

"Yeah," Ron said, resigned. "We know."

For the rest of Potions, Neville allowed Hermione to help him brew his Tummy Teasing Draught.

Snape caught them working together and gave the pair Ts for the day.

* * *

_Although most wizard homes and ancient structures like the venerable Hogwarts Castle are built largely out of magically-hewn stone, there still is a place in our architecture for the humble tree. With just a few well-cast charms and a bit of hard work, the wizard artisan can transform any hardwood tree into a useful piece of furniture. Be it a chair, a table, a bed, or even a door, wood provides the material for them all. Lest we forget, trees also provide another valuable service to wizardkind: wands. Without these essential instruments of magic, we would be unable to function in our world. Common wand trees include oak, maple, willow -_

"...word? Password, please!" The Fat Lady crossed her arms impatiently.

Neville snapped to attention, the harsh, insistent voice of the Fat Lady shocking him out of his thoughts. "I-I'm sorry," he said. "What?"

"Look, boy, I'm late for a party with the other portraits. We're all headed down to Dumbledore's office for a bit of a drink. So hurry up and say the password!"

Neville nodded and readied his mouth to mutter the password.

And promptly forgot what he was going to say.

"Um..." A frown tugged at Neville's lips, his eyebrows furrowing together at the center of his now wrinkled forehead. What had he meant to say?

"You've forgotten it," the Lady sighed. "Right. Can't let you in without it. You know the rules as well as anyone else."

"Hinkypunks!" exclaimed a young voice. "C'mon, Neville. Wait till you see what we've got for you. It's brilliant!" Ginny rushed through the portrait hole, Neville reluctantly following behind, slightly put off by Ginny's exuberance. He just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn't anyone else understand that?

He finally managed to crawl through the hole, picking himself off the floor after tripping over the threshold. Once he stood upright again, his mouth gaped open at the sight flanking the Common Room. The other Gryffindors stared at him with pleased, expectant faces. The entire scene (and the slightly maddened glints in everyone's eyes) made him want to make a break for the dorm and bury himself under his bedsheets. "Did I do something bad that I'd forgotten about?" he asked.

Ginny giggled. "No, Neville. It's nothing like that. Here." She held out a wrapped parcel, small enough to fit in the palm of one's hand.

"I...don't know who you've talked with," Neville said slowly, wincing in confusion. "But my birthday isn't till July. And it isn't anywhere near Christmas so...um...I'm sorry but you've all made a bit of a mistake."

"Just take the bloody gift and have done with it," Ron said. "Can't your mates do something nice for you once in awhile?"

"Open it!" Hermione exclaimed. "You know I can't stomach all this suspense."

"Yeah, show us what we gave you," Dean said, beaming.

Pressured by the others, Neville took the gift from Ginny and untied the ribbon. Shaking fingers lifted the cover off the box, revealing:

A miniature figure of Professor Severus Snape.

Neville almost dropped the box in shock, or perhaps disgust. The jarring motion was enough to activate a charm which animated the figure.

"Incorrigible dimwit!" the figure squeaked in a high-pitched, though still unmistakably Snape-like voice. "Idiotic boy! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Neville stared at the other Gryffindors, only now noticing Harry not gathered among them. "Why...?"

"For practice, of course!" Hermione answered brightly. "Isn't it fantastic? Dean sculpted it and Ron and Ginny got in touch with the Twins to help figure out the right charms to cast. I was the one who spelled it alive, of course. And we used some of Seamus' Quidditch figures to measure out the right scale..."

"Uh..." Neville's ears missed out on the torrent of words rushing from Hermione's mouth, latching onto only one thing. "Practice?"

"Air-headed dolt!" shouted the figure.

"Exactly," Ginny said. "Practice standing up to Snape using this figure. And when you're up against the real thing, you won't be so afraid."

"I...don't...um...thanks..." A weak smile appeared on Neville's face. "This is...thanks..." He looked slightly bewildered, but the smile held, mostly out of politeness. Neville still had the urge to bolt from the Common Room and lock himself in the dorm for the rest of term.

"We knew you'd like it," Hermione said.

"And Harry said it was a bit much," Seamus said. "Shows what he knows!"

As the Gryffindors gathered together congratulating themselves on cheering him up, Neville himself backed away from the group and silently slipped through the portrait hole, escaping to the outside corridor.

* * *

"Have you no brains in your head, boy?"

"I've got brains a-plenty, you just never noticed." Neville sighed half-heartedly. The figure worked, sort of. He found it terribly easy to talk back to a three inch tall magical replica of Snape, though he doubted he could do the same thing when faced with the real professor in the dank, dark Potions classroom. He clutched the Snape-figure in one hand, sensing it start to wiggle with discomfort. Good.

"Ten points from Gryffin--mfff!"

Neville's fist tightened until he was sure the figure would break off a limb or lose its head. No such luck. Hermione must have cast a Resiliency Charm on it. She thought of everything. Neville let out a soft sigh, legs swinging rhythmically in the air as they dangled off one of the greenhouse worktables. Uncanny how the plants seemed to call to him whenever he felt troubled or needed a quiet place for contemplation. The only sound in the place was the muffled voice of the mini-Snape, still spitting out insults despite being enclosed in Neville's shaking fist.

The main door opened with a familiar creak, and Neville stiffened, certain that he was about to get an earful from Sprout for being in the greenhouse and not settling himself into work. But Sprout usually didn't work this late.

"H-hello?" Neville called.

"Addle-minded dunderhead!" the Snape-figure shouted, shimmying free of Neville's grasp. It clattered to the floor, staring up at Neville indignantly. When Neville tried to snatch it up, the Snape-figure crawled out of reach and scampered away.

"They're brilliant mates, aren't they?" a voice from the doorway muttered.

"H-Harry?" Neville said, surprised. "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't realize you wanted to catch up on some Herbology work. I'll just go to one of the other greenhouses." He hopped off the table, stumbling to his feet. "You'll want to be alone, right?"

"Neville, it's alright. I sort of figured you'd head down here. It's rather nice out here. Quiet. No one about to pressure you or anything."

"How'd you figure out which greenhouse I was in?" Neville asked.

"Actually..." Harry cleared his throat sheepishly. "I just checked all the buildings for you. Didn't take too long."

"Oh," Neville said, nodding in understanding. "They're horrid."

Harry blinked, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The greenhouses? I thought you liked it here."

Neville shut his eyes and chuckled, in spite of the anxious tightening of his stomach. "No. Them. The other Gryffindors."

"Yeah. Sometimes," Harry said with a shrug.

"You've noticed it as well! The way they sort of enter into things without thinking about the consequences or...or thinking they know what's best for you and tell you what to do. I already know I ought to stand up to Snape. They don't understand how difficult it is for me. I wish they'd just think, I mean really think about how it looks through my eyes."

"They mean well," Harry said. "I understand that much."

"Of course you do," Neville countered. "You're like them."

Harry gaped at Neville, clearly disturbed. "What? I am not!"

"You, Ron, Hermione." Neville started to tick the names off his fingers. "Dean and Seamus and Ginny and even Lavender and Parvati. You lot all fit into Gryffindor. I don't. I...I try really hard to, but I don't."

"You can't sell yourself short like that, Neville. You're the bravest bloke I know."

Neville scoffed. "Yeah, you should've seen my face when I opened up their gift. I acted worse than Aunt Enid when she spots a gnome in the garden. She won't touch them herself. Has to always yell at me or Uncle Algie to get rid of it. Really brave."

"Neville..."

"Don't, Harry. I've heard it all before. How the Sorting Hat's never made a mistake and how I'm supposed to have some brilliant thing happen to me in future to explain why I got Sorted into Gryffindor in the first place."

"I think it's awfully brave of you to keep on with Potions no matter how terribly Snape treats you," Harry said evenly.

"Potions'd be dead easy if it weren't for Snape," Neville said with a wry grin. "It's all Herbology, Harry. That's how I passed the O.W.L., y'see? I know the properties of plants backwards and forwards. I know how to work them into a cohesive whole. I can put together a potion to cure anything you please. But only in my head. Cos once I'm in that classroom and once I know his eyes are on me, just waiting for me to muck up...I sort of retreat into the facts and I can't put them to any practical use. At all."

"You should just stand up to him." His face was mock-serious, the tone of his voice mimicking Hermione.

"Yeah, I should," Neville said wistfully. "But I probably won't."

"I told you, Neville. Don't sell yourself short. Everyone wants you to do your best. That's why they made that miniature Snape."

"I'd like to break that thing," Neville said through slightly clenched teeth.

"That's sort of the point, I think," Harry answered teasingly. "Where is it, anyway?"

Neville shrugged. "Dunno."

"Incorrigible nitwit!" exclaimed a squeaky, muffled, Snape-ish voice, followed immediately by a deep, rumbling croak.

Neville tilted his head down, searching the floor for that familiar spotted brown lump of a toad. He crouched on his haunches just long enough to scoop his hands beneath Trevor's legs and lift him off the ground. "What're you doing here?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" shouted Trevor's stomach.

"I think your toad just ate Snape." Harry giggled, eying Trevor with a good amount of glee.

"Serves Snape right," Neville said, slipping his pet into one of his robe pockets. "I hope Trevor doesn't get indigestion."

* * *

Potions seemed to linger on longer than usual during Friday afternoons, and the sixth years itched and squirmed to be let out after the last lesson of the day. But they had to wait for Snape to ask one particular question and expect one particular answer from one particular student. Snape found his mood especially malicious this day and decided to choose "Mr. Longbottom."

The Slytherins groaned loudly; the Gryffindors, less so.

"Mr. Longbottom. Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, you managed to scrape up enough of what passes for your intelligence and earned a perfectly respectable mark for your Potions O.W.L. What I want to know is how you managed to copy answers off of Miss Granger's exam without the proctors noticing."

"I...I didn't cheat..." Neville mumbled under his breath, glancing sideways at the other Gryffindors.

"Indeed," Snape said, quirking an eyebrow. "That's what you insist happened, then? Let's see, Mr. Longbottom. A simple question for you. Answer correctly and I will dispense with the appropriate reward. An incorrect answer with earn your housemates and yourself detention for the weekend."

Neville gulped, trying to ignore the catcalls from the Slytherins and the shouts of protests from the Gryffindors. Why couldn't Snape choose someone else? He stared at the harsh face of the Potions master, already sensing his mind slipping safely into the cold repetition of facts.

Oak.

Walnut.

The Whomping Willow.

What relaxed him? Smells.

Flowers.

Roses.

Lilacs.

Peppermint.

His mind latched onto the thought immediately.

_Peppermint. Mentha piperita. Used as a flavoring in many sweets and also as a medicinal potions ingredient thanks to its aromatic properties. Known to calm the stomach. Also used in aiding recovery from the common cold. Older leaves contain much more aroma than newly formed buds. Flowers are similar in shape to lilacs..._

"What...what did you say, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked, his expression verging on curious but still as stern and humorless as ever.

"Uh..." Neville didn't notice his reciting of facts out loud. "P-peppermint?" he stammered uncertainly. "Not only is it the main ingredient in Pepperup Potion. The leaves can be p-placed in an infusion with burdock root which can be given to anyone suffering from stomach complaints and their condition can be eased within the hour."

"Hmmph. Very good, Mr. Longbottom. Perhaps you do have a brain rattling about somewhere in that skull of yours after all. Two points for Gryffindor. All of you, dismissed."

Neville glared at the departing Snape, his mouth starting to work but no sounds coming out apart from a shocked little squeak at irregular intervals.

"Good job, Neville." Dean said. "Knew you could do it."

"See, that figure worked!" Hermione said. "Where is it, anyway?"

"Oh, Neville probably lost it, knowing him," said Ron. "It's alright, though. It's already done its job!"

Neville finally managed to find his voice. "Uh...he...he did say _for_ Gryffindor, r-right? Not _from_?"

"Yes, Neville," Hermione grinned. "He said _for_."

"_For_ Gryffindor." Neville stood frozen in place, allowing the memory of what just happened to echo around in his head. "For. Not from. Points _for_ Gryffindor. I got points _for_ Gryffindor. In Potions." His back straightened and he held his shoulders back. "For Gryffindor." He shook his head in complete disbelief. And then he did something no one expected.

Neville laughed. Not the tiny, nervous chuckle familiar to every Gryffindor, but a deep, throaty, belly laugh.

"Suppose Herbology helped a bit, didn't it?" Harry said.

"Yeah," Neville answered, an easy smile appearing on his face, the first since he set foot in the Potions classroom during his first year. "Suppose it did."


End file.
